Page 2 of Christmas With the Convict

The penitentiary shrinks in my rearview mirror.

I turn onto Evans Rd, heading for Highway 50. Snow has dusted the open fields. It’s cold and only going to get colder in the few days before Christmas.

A man is walking along the road.

He looks more like a shadow of a man as I approach. A big, fierce shadow in dirty jeans, a ratty leather vest, and a gray long-sleeve. Those clothes don’t look at all warm enough for a winter walk. But his head is up, staring at the horizon, face set like stone as I pass.

Chase…

Before I know it, I’m slamming on my breaks.

The tires squeal as I throw it in reverse and pull up alongside him on the empty road. Inmate Oliver—now a free Chase Oliver—looks at me through the open window, goes wide-eyed, and then keeps walking.

“Hey!” I slowly roll with him, leaning over the passenger seat to yell out the window. “Inmate—Mr. Oliver? It’s me… Miss—“

“Bettencourt,” he says without stopping. “Ma’am.”

“Oh, you can call me Wendy.”

He steals a glance at me. “Chase.”

I knew he was big, but he lookshugenow that he’s not in that baggy jumpsuit. His clothes seem a size too small for his dense muscles….

“I missed you in class today, Chase. I mean,wemissed you.” A car flies by blaring its horn. “The guard told me you were being released. That’s amazing! It must feel great to be a free man again, huh?”

Chase offers me a curt smile that bounces back to his signature, sexy scowl. I narrow my eyes and finally whip my SUV out ahead of him and park blocking the path. He walks up to the passenger door and rests his arms inside. He’s holding the journal he was issued in class, which nothing more than a cheap school notepad. The secret words on those pages call to me…

“So,” I say, fingers drumming the steering wheel. “Where you headed? Home for the holidays?”

He shrugs. “Pueblo.”

I hate how sparing he is with his words. It robs me of the sound of his deep, humming voice.

“You have family there?”

“No.”

“A girlfriend, then? What’s waiting for you in Pueblo?”

Chase Oliver shakes his head almost imperceptibly. He’s alone. And if that bothers him, you’d never know it by the stoic look on his face.

“There’s no one coming to get you…”

He does that little smile again. This time, I see something in his eyes. I see the lack of a fireplace to warm his tired, cold body. I see an absence of music and singing and food and family to share the holidays with. I see myself, reflected in his beautiful irises, and the possibilities of the chance I’m about to take.

I pop open the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Don’t need a ride,” he says quickly. “Been a while since I’ve walked anywhere.”

“I’m not giving you a ride. You’re coming with me.”

“With you?” He scans my face, staring into my eyes with that same intensity he always does. It’s like he’s bearing down on my soul. “Where?”

“Aspen.”

Chase actually laughs. It’s a soft chuckle that makes my toes curl. “I don’t ski.”

“You don’t have to,” I say. “It’s where my family spends the holidays. We have a house there.”

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